In the water, something swam along. It was entirely and fully unaware of its position—but it lived it all the same.
In the air, a person with not much to do and little interest in matters of her own life walked along, looking at her feet. Continue reading
When the feet move,
At the slowest version of the brain speed,
In motion across space, Continue reading
A spice upon the table,
Sitting where it be,
A taste of it will show you,
Where you’re meant to flee,
“What a delicious meal we have made, full of things and places. A bevy of reality spread forth on our plate, salivating those who can process, stomach, digest the unfathomable. Continue reading
The letter c,
What do you be,
Are you part of some tree? Continue reading
Who are we,
We are you,
When is it,
Yourself? Continue reading
Take a slice,
Isn’t that nice?
And that’s the way the carbs flow. Continue reading
Be prepared to have your mind blown. Continue reading
Amidst the violence, when the shady deals were just being struck, and the drugs hitting streams of blood at the rate of a brain burst, he plugged in his instrument and warmed up his other physical one. The microphone crackled against his breath, and he sang a few languid notes. Continue reading
“That wasn’t chicken,” she said, standing behind him as he washed off the plate. The remnants of meat slid away, to be caught in the drain cover.
“Uh…what?” he said. “Then what was it?”
“I don’t know.” Continue reading
When the world is not going,
When the hippogriffs are dancing,
With their unbridled friends, Continue reading
You may think,
That with a title to a poem,
That I’ve gone insane, Continue reading
Think of a word,
Who are you?
What’s the word? Continue reading
I’m guessing some would recommend I don’t write about this, but, well, you all know I’m eccentric as it is—so, fuck it. Writers already have the stigma of being a weird bunch, but you’ve heard, likely, all the usual shenanigans—so, I’m doing you one better.
Not just researching murder methods, talking to people who they make up, or being totally willing to do dangerous/stupid things for the sake of a story: nah, I’ve got a set of much more unique quirks.
And it involves words and language. Continue reading
“Deep down there, in the deep, what did they find? What could make them sleep? On what do they feed, and what is seen by their endless eyes?”
“The tales they tell of what they have is not one for the foolish—only the dead.”
“No, please. This is going to hurt us. You are wrong.” Continue reading